The Death of Chaos

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  LX

  Nylan, Recluce

  “YOU CAN ALMOST hear the chaos buildup in Candar… I can sense it from here.” Heldra looks toward the half-open door. “Where’s Maris?”

  “Picking up a message from the traders. He shouldn’t be that long.”. Talryn fingers the black ceramic mug. “I can sense the chaos, too. I asked Gunnar about it. Even he’s worried. He thinks the levels are as high as when Fairhaven fell. Maybe higher. I wouldn’t know. Then, he’s rather older than we are.”

  “He claims he’s survived through the working of order, but I still wonder about that explanation,” muses Heldra.

  At the dull clunk of the outer door, both councilors look up. Maris steps into the Council Room, glances around to see no one besides the other two Council members are there, and closes the door behind him.

  “Hamor has invaded Candar. More than twoscore ships- the new ones-hold Freetown. Colaris and his personal guard were taken and executed. More troops and ships are expected.”

  “Almost twoscore ships in Freetown? You’re certain?” Heldra’s eyes flick from Talryn to Maris and the scroll he holds. “All steel-hulled and steam-powered?”

  “That’s the report. The Emperor’s regent holds Freetown.” Maris strokes his beard, his fingers fluttering nervously.

  “What will your traders do?” Heldra turns her back on the harbor below and the flat blue of the sunlit Eastern Ocean framed by the Council Room window, waiting for Maris to answer for the traders.

  “What can we do? Avoid Freetown, but we’re blocked from Delapra and Southwind. Freetown is the biggest port on this end of Candar… and with Hamorian warships there…” Maris shrugs and turns toward Talryn. “What about the Brotherhood? Can we build another trio?”

  “In time to do any good? I doubt it.” Talryn picks up the heavy black ceramic mug and examines it.

  “Avoid Freetown? Is that all you weak-kneed traders can think of?” snaps Heldra.

  “We could transfer our shipments to Renklaar.”

  “And what will happen to costs?” Talryn’s rumbling voice sounds almost indifferent.

  “They’ll be forty percent higher,” admits the former trader. “We’d have to use riverboats to get to the Jellico road above Hydolar.”

  “I rather doubt that trade is our most immediate problem,” rumbles Talryn. “Hamor now has almost fourscore warships in and around Candar. Our trio may indeed be able to pick off the dozen or so in Dellash. Then, if they can race eastward to Freetown in what-seven days in good weather-they can try to bottle up the Hamorians in the Great North Bay. That leaves Summerdock, Southport, Biehl, and Jera all under Hamorian control when the next fleet arrives-and it will.”

  “I don’t understand this,” protests Heldra. “How can they do this under the Balance?”

  “They are, aren’t they? I told you how earlier. Besides, that’s not the question. What do we do? Surrender all interest in Candar?”

  “According to your logic,” observes Maris, “we don’t have any choice.”

  “But how can they?” questions Heldra again.

  “They’re mechanically increasing the amount of order in the world. The Balance is mechanical. Our predecessors restricted the growth of order so as to limit the growth of chaos. Hamor has never had such scruples. Also,” adds Talryn with a smile, “after Justen’s demonstration of the full power of order, no one on Recluce was exactly too enthused about creating an equal amount of chaos. Even his brother turned away from him on that.”

  “But… what’s happening? If Hamor is putting that much order into the world, and Candar, isn’t there going to be a huge chaos focus-somewhere?” Maris sets the scroll on the table.

  “Of course. We were talking about that before you got here.” Talryn nods toward Heldra. “Chaos is seething beneath Candar, even beneath the Gulf, I think. If you send out your senses, it doesn’t take much to find it. There’s even some building beneath Recluce.”

  “Great,” mumbles Heldra.

  “I’m not a mage,” snaps Maris. “I wouldn’t know.”

  “Take my word for it.”

  “So why don’t we have wizards and chaos focuses popping up all over? According to your lectures, that’s usually what happened in the past.”

  “Let’s see,” muses Talryn ironically. “Antonin almost destroys the midsection of Candar. The conflict between Lerris and Gerlis turns a valley in the Easthorns into the equivalent of the demon’s hell, and the entire world hears the reverberations. Sammel is now wielding enough chaos power to burn water, and all of Candar is rumbling with chaos deep beneath the earth. Does that answer your question?”

  “Just what are we supposed to do, then?” asks Heldra.

  “Have the Brotherhood build some more black iron destroyers, and beg Gunnar for help. Or Justen.”

  “Justen? Do we want that kind of help?”

  “Can we survive without it?”

  “And how do we pay for all of this?” protests Maris.

  Both Heldra and Talryn just look at him.

  LXI

  KRYSTAL’S ARM WAS better in the morning-sore, but with no signs of chaos-and I bandaged it loosely before she rode back to Kyphrien to report to Kasee. Then I went to work on Durrik’s chest, but not for long.

  Wegel showed up-a day earlier than I’d thought. Faslik brought him, and the young man actually had two saws, one a good crosscut blade, a smoothing blade, and chisels, although the largest chisel was really too big, more suited to working for a shipwright than a crafter. I didn’t say anything about that, and he could probably trade it for something smaller in time.

  “You sure about this, Master Lerris?” Faslik asked for the fourth time as he sat on his wagon seat, ready to leave. “He’s a good lad.”

  Wegel stood by the walk to the shop, looking down.

  “I’m sure. He gets his lodging, his food, and a copper an eight-day for now-and half of the proceeds after the wood costs of anything he sells.”

  “How long before he can be more than an apprentice?”

  I had to shrug. “I can’t say. Two, three years if he’s good.” It might be sooner than that, but I’d decided it was better to promise less. “It’s not just talent. Talent he has.” , Wegel smiled shyly at that.

  Faslik nodded. “He’s a good lad.” Then he lifted the reins and drove off, his bearded face looking back with every other step of his horses, and his wagon creaking all the way out to the road.

  Wegel swallowed, and I patted his shoulder.

  “Let’s get you settled.” I led him to the long bunk room at the end of the stable. I’d surveyed the stable and guard area earlier, and had figured out how to build a small space for Wegel. I’d help a bit, but he was going to do most of the work. In the meantime, he’d just have to take one of the bunks. It was belter than I’d had when I’d started with Destrin. There were six bunks anyway, and Krystal almost never brought more than four guards, but, as in everything, I’d overdone the design- Krystal was pointing that out to me more and more. I wondered why it bothered her so much. She’d paid for the materials and a lot of the work I couldn’t do. Sometimes, as with Wegel, it worked out.

  He looked around the space with the small table, the stools-quick, crude efforts on my part-and the three sets of bunks.

  “You want an upper one or a lower one? The upper ones are a bit warmer, which might be better now. We’ll have you in your own cubby before the weather gets too hot.” I thought about his foot and added, “Some people worry about falling out of the top ones, though, and some like it colder when they sleep. You ought to take one of the end ones-either the top one or the bottom. That way, when the commander’s guards are here-”

  “C-c-c-c-com… ?”

  “I told you. When Krystal-she’s my consort, except she’s really more important than I am, so perhaps I’m her consort-is here, her personal guards sleep here. They’re good people. Krystal wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “Y-y-you k-k-k-illed the order wiz
-z-z…”

  “I did put an end to a couple of wizards, but it wasn’t all that heroic. After the last time, I couldn’t walk for a half-season, and I still limp.” I snorted. “Grafting’s a lot easier, hard as it is, and generally a lot more rewarding.”

  Because he still had that inquiring look, I kept talking. “Pick a bunk and put your pack and stuff there. Not your tools. We’ll put those in your racks in the shop.”

  Wegel just stood there, short brown hair straggling down across the top of his forehead.

  “Wegel-don’t believe everything you hear. Most of the time I’d rather be doing woodworking than wizardry.” I patted him on the shoulder, even if he were nearly as tall as I was and broader across the chest and shoulders. “We need to get you started. There’s a lot of work to do.”

  Finally, he swung his gear onto the top bunk at the end and followed me back across the yard. Before we went into the shop, I brought him into the kitchen, where Rissa was scrubbing the stove.

  “Master Lerris… the floor needs scrubbing, I do not have-”

  “Rissa, I just wanted you to meet Wegel. He’ll be sleeping in the guard quarters until he can build his own space in the stable building.

  “Wegel, this is Rissa. She fixes wonderful food, runs the kitchen, and lets us all know what she thinks. She’s right enough that I’m very careful about disagreeing with her.”

  “Master Lerris… you be making me into a spite-cat willing to chew this poor fellow up.” She put down the blackened brush and turned to Wegel. “Faslik’s boy, aren’t you? The one with the good knife? Someday, if Master Lerris doesn’t work you into the ground, I’d like you to carve me a wooden chicken. Of course, he won’t work you as hard as he works himself, but that sometimes doesn’t help much. But maybe you can do me a chicken.” She looked at me. “Carved ones likely be the only ones we get around here.”

  “Rissa. No chickens.”

  She glanced back at Wegel. “You look hungry.” She crossed the kitchen, bringing back a good half loaf of bread. “It’s cool, but it’s good enough. Go ahead. Master Lerris won’t mind.”

  I nodded. “When you finish eating, bring your stuff to the shop, and we’ll get it racked. Then we’ll start you in.”

  I left the kitchen and went to the drawing board in the shop. While Wegel finished eating the bread, I sketched out a rough drawing of a box just like the one I had built for Uncle Sardit. Like I’d had to do, Wegel was going to keep notes on woods and projects. And like Uncle Sardit, although probably not nearly so well, I was going to have to teach him what I knew. I took a deep breath. Uncle Sardit would have laughed.

  The two additional commissions I’d gotten just before Wegel had arrived weren’t exactly ideal for starting Wegel. He might be able to help on the case for Minister Zeiber. Then we’d see about the dowry chest for Preltar’s daughter. I sighed, thinking about the hinges I needed to commission.

  As I was finishing the sketch of the box, Wegel peered into the shop.

  “That rack’s yours. When you aren’t using a tool, it goes back in the rack. Understand?”

  He nodded.

  I wasn’t about to start Wegel on a desk like Antona’s, although I would have him carve the inlaid A-he could clearly do that better and more quickly than I, even in the dark lorken, and there was certainly no sense in my spending forever on something that would take him perhaps a morning, a day or two at most.

  So I had him start on his note box, interrupting him as necessary to help hold and position the work I was doing on Antona’s desk.

  “Gluing and fitting cherry is even harder than oak. Oak is heavier, but, in a way, it has more give. Cherry tends to be more brittle, and it requires more care. You just can’t force it, and you have to be careful with the grains.” I edged the pieces together as I talked.

  “You can’t force a join, just like you can’t force a carving.” I lined up the clamps for the pedestal bracing, and tightened them slowly. “-See… you only want enough pressure to hold the wood in place… with just enough glue there… the wood and the pins carry the weight. The glue is really to keep the pieces in position so that the supports do carry the weight…” I looked at Wegel. “Do you see… ?”

  “I… sss… eeee…”

  I shook my head and grinned. “You don’t have to talk. Just nod yes or no. Unlike some people, I think I can understand, and I don’t want you wearing yourself out when you don’t have to. Save your efforts for the wood.”

  Wegel nodded, then turned away.

  I touched his shoulder. “If you want to talk… that’s fine, too. All I meant was that you don’t have to if you don’t want to…” I hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings, but talking was such an effort for him at times that I didn’t want him wearing himself out trying to please me.

  Wegel nodded at me with a half-smile.

  “Can you write?”

  “A l-l-l-little.”

  “Good. When you feel like taking a break from the box, I want you to do two things. I’ll give you some thick paper, and the first thing is to write down what you know about cherry, and anything you learned today. After that, I’ll show you how to do breadboards. Every apprentice needs to do a few. Rissa could use one or two, and you might be able to sell some others for a copper or two. Some of the extra wood can’t be used for anything else, and at least that way it won’t cost you. Then, in your spare time, I want you to sketch out the design for an A.”

  Wegel raised his eyebrows.

  “The desk here. It will have a small carved A that I’ll inlay in the corner. You carve better than I do. So you can take the first cut at the design. After you carve it, I’ll chalk it and cut the grooves.”

  “M-m-m-me?”

  “Why not?” I grinned. “The design has to be carved-it’s really cutting as much as carving. And you can’t hurt the desk because you’re working on a separate piece. I’ll show you how I want it set so the wood grain runs in the right direction.”

  “G-g-g-rain?”

  That question led into an explanation of wood grain, and how the grains have to match, unless you’re using the grains as a pattern in themselves. I was a little surprised that Wegel didn’t know more about grains, and woods, but I had the feeling he had been doing the drudge work at the mill.

  Still, he seemed to understand.

  LXII

  South of Hrisbarg, Freetown [Candar]

  As THE SKY lightens, the Duke watches the far hillside, but the balloon does not rise with the dawn, nor does the smoke from the Freetown cookfires. Only a handful of cyan banners drop in the still air. No fog created by the breath of troops wreathes the hill from where the Freetown cannon had fired their deadly shots the day before.

  “Scouts!” demands Berfir, pushing his mount to the crest of the hill, from where he can survey the Freetown position.

  “Ser?” asks the stocky officer who rides up beside him.

  “Colaris’s forces have abandoned their position. That’s what it looks like.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  Berfir nods grimly, his eyes flicking back to his own most recent trenchworks, the thin lines of red-clad troops-and the rows of mounds ‘that lie on the downside of the hill. “I don’t know. The cannon are gone.” He gestures. “It looks like they even left supplies, and if that’s so…”

  “I understand, ser.” The stocky man salutes.

  “We may reach Freetown yet.”

  “If they don’t have those demon-damned long guns, ser…”

  “Or if we can overtake them and capture them,” suggests the Duke.

  “Wouldn’t mind having a few, ser, long as they’re pointed away from us.”

  Berfir’s laugh dies away as he purses his lips, studying the seemingly empty Freetown position. “Why… ?”

  The scout officer waits.

  “Check if it’s clear to take their position-and those supplies. Then we’ll see… then we’ll see.” He fingers his salt - and - pepper beard, before his fingers
go to the captured pistol at his belt. “We’ll see…”

  LXIII

  AFTER KRYSTAL LEFT for Kyphrien, still favoring the injured arm, and trying not to, I fed Gairloch and the mare. Then I went back into the kitchen.

  “Master Lerris, how can I clean if everyone-”

  I stopped just inside the door. “Do you know where Merrin-the coppersmith-is, or Borlo, the other one?”

  “Merrin? She is the queer Southwind woman who works with copper?” Rissa pushed back her hair off her damp forehead with one hand, and set the broom against the side of the wall with the other.

  “That’s the one. I need hinges for a chest.” I’d kept putting it off, and now the chest might even be late if I didn’t get on with it, but I hated to depend on others.

  “Most crafters use Borlo, and he has lived in Kyphrien for a long time. His shop is off the market square on the artisan’s street. Now, his father! Neltar was a coppersmith, and the kettles he made! Guysee, when times were better and she was Morten’s housekeeper, she showed me one of those kettles. Morten, he had three of them, and one of them whistled a simple tune.” Rissa offered a half-smile and shook her head. “How things change, but that kettle, I never did hear… and oh, what a kettle it looked to be…”

  I held up a hand. “What have you heard about Merrin?” I’d heard enough about Borlo. When someone praises a crafter’s father, it usually means that the younger crafter isn’t nearly so good.

  “That one! She dresses like a blade or a man, and perhaps she was, for there are blades upon the wall, and once she ran the merchant Fusion out of her shop…”

  At that point I was almost ready to hire Merrin. I hadn’t cared much for Fuston the one time I’d run across him, either.

  “… and they said that the heir, the one called Liessa, she has commissioned works from the woman.”

  I nodded. “Where might I find Merrin?”

  “Always, always, you look for the troublesome ones, Master Lerris… Borlo is a nice man, always so polite…”